Not What I Expected
by RogueWitch
Summary: Darcy and Clint get snatched, things go a bit down hill from there.
1. Gagged and Tied

Not What I Expected

Chapter 1: Gagged and Tied

Some days just suck, today absolutely qualified. Darcy woke to a pounding in her head so intense that she saw stars dancing behind her eyelids. She clenched her eyes shut and took deep breaths through her nose, trying not to be sick. She tried to raise her hands to her aching head, only to find they were secured tightly above her head. Not good. She pulled gently to test the bonds, though knowing her luck she was screwed. The rough rope bit into her wrists, rubbing them raw with just a few movements. She didn't think she would be going anywhere without help.

She took long slow breaths and opened her eyes, which revealed a dimly lit room four concrete walls, a metal door and a small window high enough up that it wasn't going to do her any good, the bars on the window further discouraged that route. So, not good. She was lying on a metal cot with a thin mattress, the metal webbing underneath biting into her back. Across the room there was another cot with a person on it. It was too dim to tell, but she could guess who it was; her last memories were of shouting at him in the middle of Central Park, ironically about not needing a babysitter.

He lay in his side with his back to her, one arm tied to his cot, the other twisted at an odd angle under him. He wasn't moving, so they'd probably given him a bigger does of whatever the hell they'd given her. Darcy closed her eyes again, the drum solo in her head picking up temp the longer her eyes were open. His Hawkness was so going to yell at her when he woke up. She hated that his over protective ass had been right.

All she'd wanted to do was take a walk in Central Park. Jane had kept her so busy for their first two months at the Tower getting everything set up just so, that she hadn't done more than grab a Starbucks from the corner. And they finally had a nice day, so damned if she wasn't going to go out and enjoy it.

Darcy knew that she'd never have noticed her tail if he hadn't wanted her to. "I don't need a babysitter," she told the archer who dropped into a crouch on the bench beside her.

"Not my call, sweetheart," his face was impassive behind his mirrored sunglasses. "Take it up with the Cap, he's the one giving orders now."

"Won't do any good," she told him, pulling out her headphones. "He gets all tongue tied around me."

"Only chick the Star Spangled Ma can talk to is Tasha," he nodded. "Probably because she can kill him a dozen ways with her pinky."

"Fifteen," Darcy scrolled through her playlists. Hawkeye lifted a brow at her. "I was curious, I asked."

"I'm impressed."

"Good," she stuck a bud in her ear. "Now go home."

"No can do, sweetness," he pulled out a small throwing knife and started cleaning his nails.

"It's Darcy," she stood up, exasperated. "Not sweetheart or honey bear or sugar." She picked up her bag and stomped down the path trying to ignore how he hopped to his feet effortlessly and fell in step behind her. "Who'd you piss off to get stalker duty, anyway?"

"Why'd ya think I pissed someone off?" He tossed a drum stick up, flipping it over and over, until Darcy reached out and grabbed it and stuck it in her back pocket.

"Just a hunch. Look, I've got my Taser, it's even the supped up one Tony made me," Darcy flashed the black taser with purple glitter down the side. The archer barked out a laugh. "Tony also bedazzled it, doesn't make it any less effective."

"Darling," she glared at him and he shrugged nonchalantly. "Darcy, you're a high profile target, you've been photographed with both Thor and Tony, not to mention Jane and Dr. Selvig. You rate security. We've gotten enough threats agents our group with your name coming up more than once. You, little girl, are stuck with me."

"I'm a science intern," Darcy told him, giving up getting away and flopping down on a bench. "I don't even understand the science I'm interning for."

"You're well passed an intern, and you and I both know you're smarter then you let people believe, and some goon who wants to snatch someone close to the Avengers won't care, anyhow." He settled on the bench gracefully and she wished she could push him over.

The next thing she knew, she was waking up in a cell, with a broken Hawkeye. No one got the drop on his Hawkness, dude had eyes in back of his head, he hit moving targets at a hundred yards blindfolded with a fucking bow and arrow. And yet, here he was, tied to a cot with a broken arm. She was so screwed.

Finally the pain in her head lessened, while the cotton feeling in her mouth increased, but at least she could function with that. She also became aware of the fact that she would eventually need to pee, and there were no facilities and she was also still tied to a bed. A groan from the other bed told her that her not so feathered fried was awake.

"Fucking Jesus," his voice was strained and movements pained.

"That's about the long and short of it," Darcy said, looking at the concrete ceiling. There was a light up there, it just wasn't on.  
"Darcy?" she could hear his teeth clenched together. She couldn't even begin to imagine how much it had to hurt lying on his arm like that. "Any change you're not tied up?"

"Nope," she said, her lips gripping the end of the word with a pop.

"Are your feet tied up, too?" Not only was he in pain, he was also clearly pissed off.

"No," oh, she rolled off the cot, careful not to strain her shoulders. The cot moved freely, and she dragged it over to where his cot laid, the metal on the floor making a crazy nails on a chalk board racket. "What do I do?"

"Shoot me," he groaned. "I told you that you needed protection."

"Yeah," Darcy rolled her eyes. "That worked out so fucking well, didn't it?"

"Shut up and help me off this arm," his eyes flashed angrily at her.

"My hands are tied to the fucking cot, how am I supposed to help you do anything?" she could kick him in his smart ass, but that wouldn't help either of them get out of this cell.

"Use your teeth," he ground out, clearly pain did not make Hawk-ass anymore pleasant to be around. "What the hell have you been doing since you woke up, Sweetness? Bemoaning the loss of your precious iPod, again?"

"Trying not to throw up," Darcy really wanted to kick him. "I'm pretty sure I've got a concussion." She pulled at the rough, thick rope with her teeth. She could feel it biting into her skin and lips, making her bleed.

"Right there with you," he groaned. "Whatever they shot us with took you down fast. I got off a few shots before they threw me into a fucking tree and shot me again."

"You see who it was?" she tore free one arm, her wrist raw and bloody.

"Goons in black," the archer told her. "No helpful insignias, probably hired muscle anyway. Shot me with a fucking trank in the back." Darcy tried not to look at her freed wrists as she worked the knot loose around Agent Barton's arm, her finger tips slick with blood. "Okay, not push me up." He tried to help as much as he could, but any movement seemed to cause him more pain. The entire right side of his face was bloody and bruised.

"Well, at least you put up a fight," she winced. His left arm hung limply at his side, his face expressionless, but white with pain. His glare was more than penetrating. Darcy sat back on her cot, gently touching her raw and bloody wrists, the taste of bitter rope and fresh blood on her tongue.

"It's dislocated," his voice was rough and thin. He unwound a length of rope from around the metal of the cot's headboard. "You're going to have to set it."

"I'm sorry," Darcy watched as he wound and tied the rope, his arm hanging uselessly. "I'm going to do what?"

"You, little girl," his eyes lashed. "Are going to hold my shoulder while I put the fucker back in place, and then you're going to help me bind it, so I can get up the fuck out of here." Darcy shook her head, eyes wide as she eyed the limp appendage. "Not asking, Darling." He pulled her roughly to her feet and placed her hand on his bad shoulder, pushing her fingers into the joint. "Feel that?" he asked, voice strained. The shoulder felt wrong, and a bit squishy, she could tell just by looking that it was swollen. "You need to hold my wrist and put your other hand on the front of my shoulder," he put her hand where he wanted it. "Use your body weight on that hand and pull on the wrist, don't stop until you hear it pop back into place, do it quick." She was still shaking her head as he stared her down, putting a piece of rope between his clenched teeth. Darcy set her feet apart and pushed into his shoulder and pulled as hard and fast as she could. Hawkeye howled around the rope between his teeth, sweat blooming across his forehead. "Good job, sweetheart," he panted, running his good hand up and down her side, halfway between a pat and a rub. "Now I'm going to need you to take your button up off."

"Excuse me," Darcy moved back from the weakly patting hand. "I am not taking my clothes off for you; I don't care how injured you are."

"I'm not looking for a lap dance, girly," Hawk-ass groused. "I need the shirt to make a sling; mine doesn't have enough fabric to go around my shoulder."

"I'm not wearing anything under," Darcy's hands flitted to the bottom button of her red blouse. "Well, a bra," because god knows her boobs didn't leave the house if not properly harnessed.

"I'd give you mine, gladly," the agent told her through gritted teeth, clearly done dealing with her. "But you're going to have to get it off." The Kevlar tactical shirt was tight and buckled and zipped and was next to impossible to get off over his injured shoulder. Darcy took the shirt, trying not to ogle all that hard muscle, or stare at the brilliant bruises that ran down his chest from his shoulder down his side. She turned her back and unbuttoned her's and slipped the Kevlar over her shoulders. It was too snug over her hips, but she managed to zip it up to her chest, which refused to be smushed into the vest. "Well, that will certainly distract our captors," staring at her very full decolletage. Darcy poked his shoulder.

Getting the shirt situated around his shoulder, and securing it into place took more effort than they'd both originally though, but she got it tied, possibly a little tighter then he would have liked, judging by his grumbling. Then there was nothing to do. "What now?" Darcy asked, leaning against the wall on Hawkeye's cot, trying not to stare at her own mounded breasts that were practically shoved in her face. Hawkeye was staring down the lock on the door like he could intimidate it into opening.  
"I assume you've got an underwire to go with those impressive tits?" he didn't even look over at them, his face saying he was doing immense feats of differential calculus, so she tried not to take offence to his blatant objectification, plus they were pretty impressive.

"I take it you want my bra, then," Darcy got up and turned around and unzipped the tack shirt and pulled off her bra, the shirt held the girls in nicely, she pulled the zip carefully, as not to catch any cleavage between the teeth.

"Just the wire," he took the edge of the fabric between his teeth and ripped. Darcy tried not to flinch as he destroyed her favorite red lace Victoria Secret way too expensive bra. Hawkeye made quick work of the lock and escorted her around the door.  
Darcy learned two things very quickly; getting shot, even while wearing Kevlar, really fucking hurt, and his Hawkness was super-fast, even while injured. He had them back through the door, covering her before she could even take a breath. He pulled the bullet out of the Kevlar and dropped it on the floor, sticking his fingers in his mouth. "Okay, new plan."


	2. Black Dahlia

**Notes:**

Chapter title inspired by Black Dahlia by Hollywood Undead

No What I Expected

Chapter 2: Black Dahlia

With the cell door closed, and the adrenaline from the gun fire abating, Hawkeye's weight quickly became too much, especially with the crazy bruise on her ribs that the elbow of his injured arm was digging into. Darcy took a deep breath to tell him to shove off when the slide of metal and a clang of a full can hitting concrete launched him into action, hauling her up by the front of his tack shirt and throwing them both behind a cot hit tipped over with his foot. Darcy could hear the canister rolling against the floor in those horrible seconds that Hawkeye shielded her body from what they both assumed to be a grenade blast. The hiss of gas didn't seem to make him feel any better. "Oh, fuck," the archer's body went limp over her before her vision started to grey around the edges. And Darcy had thought getting shot sucked.

Waking up a second time sucked less, possibly because her concussion had subsided, or the scary tubes and bags of fluid being pumped into her arm were dulling her senses. She looked blearily around the room, everything had a hazy edge, which meant her contacts were gone, had they been gone in the cell? Who the fuck would take out someone's contacts, what weirdo would want to touch someone else's eyeball, Darcy didn't even like touching her own eyeball?

Her hands and feet were locked down to the gurney with heavy metal cuffs, just the sight of which made her heart race, in the background a beeping monitor kicked on, the beeps increasing the more she took in around the room. The equipment was mostly out of focus, but it all looks scary medical, the beeping had to be a heart-rate monitor. Hawkeye was strapped down next to her, so close she could reach out with her fingers and grab on to his. Darcy looked at the unconscious man, a strip of hair behind his ear shaved, his face slack. She laced her fingers into his limp and unresponsive ones, wishing he would wake up, he'd know what to do next.

The only noises in the lab where the whir of machines and the beeping that was really starting to freak her out, they were definitely still in a hostile situation, the fact that she hadn't seen any goons, didn't make her feel any better, if anything it was worse. The bags dangling over her head where her biggest cause for concern at that moment. She'd been in enough hospitals, mostly not for herself, to know that saline was clear and nothing that she'd ever seen was neon glowing yellow.

Darcy closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing, slowly in and out through her nose and mouth, it wasn't going to do either of them any good if she panicked and hyperventilated and passed out. What would Natasha do? Something bad-ass, no doubt, Darcy couldn't manage bad-ass, not strapped to a gurney, an unknown lab with some kind of freaky liquid dripping into her arm through an IV. She was barely managing to keep from bawling, hot tears dripped down her cheeks into her ears, and down through her hair. She squeezed Hawkeye's fingers.

Fire and ice licked through her veins as a new monitor above her kicked on, a roar of pain brought her companion to consciousness. Hawkeye pulled and struggled at his bindings, his head whipping from side to side taking everything in around him, his heart monitor screaming to life, his eyes much too wide. A flash of electricity went through her entire body, dancing along their entangled fingers and ripping a scream from her chapped, dry lips, her lungs burning before lightning and darkness ate at her vision.

Blue eyes blinked at her when her vision cleared. She could read sadness dripping from him, though her face was the one wet from crying. "I'm so sorry, sweetness." Clint looked up at the ceiling, the florescent lights were harsh, and made his skin look yellow. "I should have been paying more attention; I should have gotten you out of here."

"Not your fault," Darcy told him, but he wouldn't turn to look at her. He struggled uselessly at the bonds, frustrated at his inability to fix their situation. He grunted and settled.

"What do you hear?" he asked, looking at her, his face tight with tension. "I can't hear anything; you gotta tell me what you hear." Darcy looked at him, confused. "I'm deaf, Darce, you gotta speak slow and look at me."

"Since when?" Darcy had known the archer since New Mexico, and even better since moving into the Tower, how did she not notice hearing aids.

"It's not new," was all he said, so Darcy just nodded, better to just roll with it. "I think the shock fried my implant," Hawkeye continued, looking up at the medical equipment surrounding them, his heart rate jumping as he saw the bags of neon hanging about both of them, both nearly half empty. "I don't like the look of that glowy shit, babe." He turned back so he was looking at her. "In my experience glowing means radiation, and radiation means serum, and that leads to Hydra, cause you can be damn sure our guys aren't pumping us full of unknown shit."

"Hydra, as in," she let the sentence hang as she felt his fingers cure into her palm. "Okay, I hear machines and beeping, not much else. I haven't seen or heard any people other than us, and I'm really, really freaking out here, Hawk."

"Yeah, we need to get out of here, like yesterday," his eyes flitted around the room, looking for weaknesses.

Darcy tapped her fingers against his. "If you can't hear me, you've gotta look at me, Hawk-ass." Darcy felt his fingers ghosting against her palm, clear and deliberate strokes.

"If we're going to be tortured together, you should at least call me by my name, sweetheart," he smiled, though it was strained and didn't reach his eyes. She concentrated on the feeling of his fingers, calloused and warm against her hand. It took a few times but she finally got it, Clint, it was his name in her hand, not out loud. Stick to call signs out loud, she nodded, and he smiled, stilling his fingers. She'd known his first name, she just never felt like they were close enough for her to use it. Guess mutual torture and medical experimentations breed intimacy.

"Like you call me by mine, Hawk-ass?" Just because they'd gotten closer, didn't mean she couldn't snark. Strapped to a gurney, it was really all that she had, and teasing him was keeping the panic level from reaching critical.

"Brat," he huffed out a breath, almost relaxing minutely, before going back to searching the room. His fingers ghosted across her palm, possibly spelling things out, but she was too distracted by the machine above them, which was starting to kick to life again to concentrate on his finger strokes. "We're going to be alright, Darcy," Clint murmured and squeezed her hand. She nodded, even though he wasn't looking at her. He was a lousy liar.

Darcy felt the crackle of electricity before the shock the next time, the electricity licking along her skin, building with intensity before the IV in her arm dripped acid into her veins. Clint howled in pain next to her, his hand convulsing around hers, then the lights flickered and went out, the machines stopped dead, and the cuffs unlocked. "That's new," Darcy pulled herself out of the restraints, ripping the IV's out of her arm. She knew it was too good to be true when she heard a whistle of air to her right and a sharp pain in her neck. Poor Clint didn't even get that warning before he was dropped into her, and the world receded again.

She woke up back in the cell, Clint lay face down on the cot across from her. Everything hurt and she could still feel the slight tingle of the shocks she'd taken dance against her skin. The light in the cell was still out, but sunlight came in through the high window. Darcy stumbled to her feet, tipping slightly and tripping to Clint's cot.

"Hey, Clint," she shook his shoulder, the sling was gone. Had he had it I the lab? She couldn't remember.

Clint moved sluggishly and blinked at her. "Hey, sweetness," he smiled lazily and patted her hand.

"You okay?" Darcy ran her hand over his shoulder, but it felt normal, no swelling.

"If you wanted to touch, all you had to do was ask," Clint winked at her. Darcy pinched him. "No pain, still can't hear." He shook his head like he was trying to remember something that was just out of reach, "How long were we in there?" She just looked at him incredulously. If super spy assassin didn't know, how the fuck was science intern going to be able to fill in the blanks. He was trained for shit like this, she got coffee and made sure Jane didn't die of starvation. "Right, dumb question." He turned her hands over, looking at her wrists. "You're all healed too, no pink skin, that makes me worried." He pulled her down to sit on his cot. "It's at least a few weeks to heal from a dislocated shoulder, and mine was pretty bad, not set right away, and done in the field. Your arms were really raw, and we don't have any track marks from the IV's." Clint looked her in the eye. "We're missing time, babe." Fear licked at her mind as he curled his arms around her and let her cry.

The days continued, cell, knock out gas, lab, IV's, electrocution, lights out, darts, cell. Time became meaningless, though Darcy knew Clint was keeping track the best he could of the cycles they went through. He also kept them both together, rubbing her back when she cried, teaching her sign language to pass the time, and curling up with her for warmth while they slept in their freezing cell, only one sleeveless tactical shirt between them. Without him she could have been a gibbering, drooling mess in the corner after the first day.

 **Notes:**

Let me know how I'm doing, and what you want to see coming up.


	3. Help I'm Alive

**Notes:**

Chapter title inspired by Help I'm Alive by Metric

Thank you to everyone who has left comments, and all those who have bookmarked my work.

Not What I Expected

Chapter 3: Help I'm Alive

The changes started slowly. First, Darcy noticed she could hear things in the lab beyond the whirl of the machines. It started with distant whispering. As the cycles past, that's what she's dubbed the passage of time, since they weren't sure how long they both were out each time, the whispers became voices.

"What are they saying," Clint spelled into her hand. After a lengthy discussion in Darcy's newly learned sign language, which she'd taken to like a duck to water, they decided to keep any non-physical changes to themselves.

"It's Russian," Darcy spelled. "I think." She scrunched up her nose and listened harder, trying to remember what they were saying.

"I speak Russian," Clint's fingers were firm and determined against her hand.

"But I don't, and you can't hear, so that's not going to do us any good is it?" Now he was going to make her learn Russian.

"Spell it for me," his hands insisted.

"You want me to spell out something in a foreign language that I don't know, so that you can try and guess what they're saying?" Darcy rolled her eyes. "I can see that working just perfectly. While I'm at it, I might as well pick the lock to these cuffs for you, and maybe cook you a nice gourmet dinner."

"You're cute when you're frustrated."

"Bite me Barton," Darcy spelled into his hand, maybe a little too hard.

"Only if you ask me real nice, baby," sometimes he was such an ass. It made captivity suck less.

It wasn't just her hearing that had seen charges. Darcy got her feet tangled and tipped off the edge of the cot she and Clint shared. Two mattresses almost kept the cot's webbing from digging into her spin, and warmth was an issue. Her elbow hit the concrete, sending a shock wave of agony up her arm, grazing the elbow just enough to bleed. Clint woke at the loss of her warmth against his chest and peeked over the side of the small cot. Darcy was trying in vain to assess the damage to her arm.  
"Let me see," he held out his hand for her and hulled her back onto the bed, running his hands over the bloody and unblemished skin. "Well, I guess whatever serum shit they're pumping us full of is working on you." Clint gave her a sad smile. "Super hearing and healing. I have a fried cochlear implant, a stacked chick to cuddle with and absolutely no privacy."

"You look younger," Darcy told him. "That V between your eyes is totally gone now, and your healing's gotta be as good as mine."

"If they're going to pump me full of unknown radiation," Clint said, curling his arms back around Darcy, tucking her head under his chin. "I want laser vision or something cool." Darcy just shook her head and chuckled sadly. She didn't care about anything but going home, going home with Clint and being safe again.

Clint didn't get Laser vision, he got telepathy, or maybe it was Darcy who had it, it didn't matter, they could only hear each other. It did on the other hand open up an entire new world for Clint, who for the first time could hear, if through Darcy, without the help of technology.

"Your voice sounds funny," was Clint's reaction to hearing Darcy in his head.

"Well, your face looks funny," Darcy rolled her eyes at him, and clenched her fingers around his. Finger spelling was completely obsolete when they could hear each other think. "You'll get used to it." Darcy took a deep breath, waiting for the next shock to roll through them. "Now concentrate on the scientists, cause my Russian isn't up to it." She was picking you the language at a crazy pace, actually, she was retaining everything with perfect accuracy, and it was kind of freaking her out.

"Lots of medical jargon," Clint concentrated, thrilled with the ability to hear even if it was through their telepathic link. "They've been running blood tests on both of us, they know about the healing." They'd both suspected about the testing while they were unconscious, the thought made them both shudder. If they were doing testing, what else where they doing?

Darcy enjoyed the weight of Clint's consciousness at the back of her mind, if they hadn't spent every second together for what felt like weeks, the forced intimacy of knowing every little thought that passed through their minds would have been more uncomfortable, as it was, it was mildly annoying, but nice having a steady presence in her mind, even in sleep she was safe somewhere.

"They keep talking about the next step," Clint felt sweat break out on his forehead as electricity built and exploded through them.

Darcy woke with her wrists and legs bound in a sitting position. The lab was completely bare except for a chair straight out of her nightmares, facing her. Clint's still unconscious body slumped in the chair. She watched intently as an attendant, for the first time there was another person in the lab, that could not possibly be a good thing. He was clothed entirely in a white medical static suit, every inch of his body covered. He pushed Clint back in the chairs and forced his jaw open, pushing a rubber mouth guard between his slack lips. Fear crept up the back of her spine as the attendant rechecked the bonds on Clint and started flipping switches. The nightmare machine whined to life like a live wire crying with untamed electricity. Pressure built in Darcy's chest as the noise grew louder.

Clint rocketed to life, his scream muffled by the rubber mouth guard. Full blown panic written all over his face. The attendant put his hand on a dial on the side of the hair and a damn broke inside of Darcy. It felt like a tidal wave pushing through her body.

"No!" Every electronic device sparked and died. The lights went out and the cuffs around her unlocked, she was on her feet before the emergency lights came on. Darcy elbowed the attendant in the throat, grabbed the back of his head and smashed his face into her knee. She could feel the bones in his nose and cheeks shatter against her leg before she gripped each side of his head and twisted with all her strength, dropping the corpse on the floor, then moving to disengage Clint from the machine.  
"What the hell was that?" Clint chucked the mouth guard at the dead attendant.

"Not a clue," Darcy shrugged. "A well timed EMP?"

"I'm not that lucky, Darling," he shook his head and searched the attendant's corpse for weapons, tucking a Glock into the pocket of his tack pants, and unsheathing a knife, testing its balance.

"Maybe our luck's changing."  
"Hope so," they moved to the door, and Darcy pressed her ear to it.

"Two guards, one on each end of the hall," Clint looked at her. "Where the hell did you get moves like that?"

"Too many Jackie Chan movies?" Darcy shrugged.

"Not a chance," he told her, pushing her behind him. "That was pure SHIELD tactical training."

Adrenaline was making her pulse beat in her ears. "We'll examine my inner bad-ass when we get home."

Hawkeye took out the goods on either end of the hallway; Darcy searched the dead guard they passed. She popped the clip out of his Glock and checked the rounds before clicking it back in place and tucking it into the back of her pants, lacing her fingers of her free hand through Clint's. She grabbed two knives, one went in her pocket, the other she launched down the hall, it stuck fast into the chest of a man rounding the corner. He fell face first to the floor.

"Thanks, babe," Clint squeezed her hand and pulled her down the hall. The complex wasn't big, and before she knew it they were out in the cold night air.

"Where are we?" the cold bit into Darcy's bear arms and she could feel Clint's chest tighten against the icy wind.

"The woods, Darce," he pulled her along, plunging past the tree line, cutting off light from the complex.

"Fuck you very much, Barton," she got an image of her bare chest, warm calloused hands pulling at them, and stopped short. "Seriously?" Clint just winked and shrugged.

"They're nice," he told her. "Sue me, I think about them."

"Can it wait until we're rescued?" She pulled on his hand. "Come one super spy, get your head in the game and find us help."

"You're not pissed?" Clint pulled her along, looking for some kind of path in the woods that they could start to follow, maybe find civilization before they both froze to death.

"That you have fantasies about my tits?" Darcy rolled her eyes at the back of the archer's head. "Not in the slightest. I've been privy to your very sexy dreams for at least a few weeks now. I'm your type." Darcy took a deep breath. "What I object to is your very bad timing. You think you can keep it in your pants until after we are rescued and I've had the chance to shower, cause I've got to tell you, Hawk-ass, these clothes really needs to be burned."

"Noted." Clint grabbed her by the back of the head and kissed her hard. "I'm still thinking about it."

"I know," it wasn't like she could get away from his thoughts, any more then she could get away from her own. "Now I really want to brush my teeth."

"That's what you think about when I kiss you?" He pulled her hand and moved them faster. He knew that wasn't true, but she was all huffy and cute when he baited her.

"No," she smiled. She thought about how very nice his chest was, especially when he puffed it up when he got annoyed with her, and the way he fit against the back of her body when they slept, and finally how much she wanted to shower before sliding into bed with him in her nice warm safe apartment back at the Tower. "The teeth thing came last. My breath has got to be horrible, my teeth are all fuzzy and that's like the least sexy thing ever."

"There's a house or something up ahead," Clint told her, pleased with her very visual thoughts.

"How do we know that they're not HYDRA?" Darcy clung to his hand, not wanting to be back in those bastards' tender mercies anytime ever.

"Recon," he pulled her behind him, and crept to the house. The lights were off, and as far as Darcy's super hearing could tell, it was completely empty. Clint put a booted heel through the glass of the front door and searched the front room for a phone. "At least where ever we are, these people still have a land line." Clint picked up the handset, pressing the ear piece close to Darcy's ear, thrilled beyond measure that there was a dial tone and dialed. "Emergency Evacuation, one agent and one civilian," he said into the receiver. "Authorization, Hotel Alfa Whiskey Kilo fifty seven forty three."

"Voice recognition confirmed," and electronic voice stated. "Evacuation unit deployed in T-minus ten minutes. Good to hear your voice Hawkeye."

Clint let out a long shuddering breath of air and pulled Darcy down to him on the couch. "Now we wait." She closed her eyes and let her head fall against his chest, tears streaming down her face.

 **Notes:**

Comments feed the muse. The more love, the faster I write.


	4. White Rabbit

**Notes:**

Chapter Title inspired by White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane.

I hope everyone is enjoying this so far. This week has majorly sucked, and working on this piece has been what's keeping me together. Oddly I've been spending all of my time torturing two of my favorite characters, but what ever gets you through I guess. Hopefully next week will suck less, and Clint and Darcy will get some happy times.

I will be going back to Equilibrium in the next week, I just get into James and Darcy's head space with all the suckage that was happening.

Enjoy.

Not What I Expected

Chapter 4: White Rabbit

Clint carried the sleeping Darcy out to the Quinjet, a med the sprinted down the ramp to receive her, but Clint just shook his head and walked right past him, her weight feeling like next to nothing in his arms. She had to have dropped more than twenty pounds during their captivity. He was sure he had, too. He put her down on one of the med bay beds and slumped down in a chair, head resting against the mattress, his thumb gently rubbing the back of her hand.

Med techs came by and took vitals; Clint let them check him over and take blood, but wouldn't let them wake Darcy. "I'll take her to Medical when she wakes up."

A nervous tech shifted back and forth on his feet. "But, sir," the man took in Clint's disheveled appearance, his hair was matted and dirty, his once black tactical pants were solid and stiff, and he had to look like a crazy mountain man with his grizzled beard. It must have been pretty scratchy for Darcy having that beard kissing her. She hadn't seemed to be bothered at the time, though. "It's protocol."

"And I'm telling you to leave her be," Clint's face went completely blank as he stared down the tech. "She's had enough medial testing; now she needs sleep." Even with half his face covered; his fuck off look seemed affective enough. The tech just turned tail and left the glowering Clint to his self-appointed protection duty.

An agent came by and dropped off sweats with the Avenger's A stitched into the front. Clint quickly changed out of his stiff, crusty tack pants, sliding into the lean sweats. The sweat shirt felt like heaven against his chest, the warmth seeping deep into his skin, after being half naked for so long. He debated waking Darcy to change, but in the end, let her sleep.

Sudden turbulence brought Darcy rocketing out of sleep and tumbling off the bed into his lap. His arms locked around her. "I didn't let them strap you in," Clint smiled down at the shaking girl in his arms.

"Probably a good plan," she turned in his lap, taking in the clean clothes. "It's weird not touching skin." She rubbed her hands against the sweat shirt, tucking her head under his chin. He looked down at her and then around the back of the Quinjet. The entire world was silent. He could still feel the weight of her mind, but it felt like the door was shut. She must have noticed too, because her eyes showed too much white when she looked up, digging at the bottom of his shirt till she found skin. The whine of the engine tore through his head. "You were just gone," she dug her fingernails into the skin of his stomach. "It didn't even occur to me that we might need to touch."

"We're always together," Clint shrugged. They'd been pumped through with so much serum; it hadn't occurred to him that there would be limitations to their link.

"I don't like not hearing you," she ran her hands along the muscles of his stomach, feeling the way they bunched and moved under her questing fingers.

"Baby" Clint took her hands out from under his shirt, lacing her fingers with his. "You can do that all you want, later." He smiled as images of her curious hands wandering under the waist band of his sweats through her mind, he groaned at the image. "Yeah, all you want, Darce."

"After a shower," she kissed his lips, his beard tickling her face. "And a shave." She wrinkled her nose. "For both of us. God, we have got to smell like an outhouse." She grabbed her set of clothes off the bed and turned her back to him. "No fair looking," she peaked back over her shoulder, signing to him. "I didn't get to watch you change." He rolled his eyes and covered them with his hands. Darcy discarded her bloody and crusty jeans, trying not to think too hard about the attendant's face she'd broken over her knee. Her underwear and Clint's tactical vest went into a bio-hazard bag along with the jeans, before she slipped into the sweat suit. The soft insides slid against her sliding luxuriously.

Darcy took Clint's hands in hers, pulling them away from his face and situated herself across his lap. "Where were we?" she asked, letting him fold her against his chest, his hand along the back of her neck.

"Russia," he told her, smoothing her filthy hair down her back. "It's been ten weeks." His voice was tight, barely restrained emotion closing his throat.

"You can let go," Darcy murmured into his chest. "We're safe; you don't have to be strong for me anymore."

"You've been strong for yourself, babe," he tipped her chin up to look at him. "I'm so proud of how you've held up. I promise we can both have a good long cry when we're clean and in bed and alone." Clint kissed her chapped lips and tucked her head back under his chin, one hand running under the bottom of her shirt, holding her close. "If I start now, I don't know if I'll stop." The whine of the engines and the familiar sounds of English lulled them both to sleep.

Captain America stopped Darcy at the door to the Avenger's War room, Clint's fingers still laced firmly through hers. "You know that rules, Agent Barton," the Captain gave him an unfriendly look and glanced down at their entangled hands with clear disdain. "Civilians debrief separately."

"We're a matched set," Clint growled. "It's all or nothing, she goes with me." He tightened his hand around hers, pulling her past the glowering Captain. "Otherwise, we'll gladly take our happy asses off to a nice hot shower, cause I gotta tell you; Cap, my skin itches something awful, and so does hers."

"Can the little girl not speak for herself, Hawk?" Natasha asked in lazy Russian, lounging at the table, feet crossed on its polished surface.

Darcy's eyes glinted. "She both can and will, Spider," she answered in clipped Russian. Natasha looked shocked. "If you let me sit, we'll fill you in," Darcy glared at the good Captain. "Or you can all go fuck yourselves, we have very definite place for this evening and none of them involve a pissing contest." Steve gave a small nod and Darcy flopped down in one of the plush office chairs surrounding the table, and waited till they had the full attention of the room.

"Who pissed in her oatmeal," Tony whispered under his breath and Clint and Darcy's eyes flew to him.

"HYDRA," Clint's voice was deadly. "We spent the last ten weeks being pumped full of their newest serum paired with electroshock treatment," he ran his fingers along the inside of Darcy's wrist, aware of everyone's eyes focused on their casual touching. Clint wasn't a casual toucher. Natasha raised a brow, but they both ignored her.

"Some kind of neon yellow, glowing serum," Darcy said. "So far we've noticed enhanced healing, and I've got enhanced hearing."

"No super hearing, Barton?" Tony snarked.

"I'm deaf," Clint told him, and Tony looked suitably chastised. "Not from the serum." The genius let out a breath. "We've got a shared telepathic connection," Clint reluctantly continued. "As long as we're touching, I hear everything through her."

"Just when you're touching," Natasha sat up, interested.

"It's a total connection when we're touching," Darcy told them. "We share everything, every thought, feeling, sensation. When we're not touching we still feel each other, and if we work at it we can hear directed thought."

"She's got crazy accuracy, too," Clint pick up where she left off. "I may not have been enhanced before but she's gained my accuracy like an ability. Tash you should have seen her take this guy out, it was a thing of beauty." His eyes shone with pride. "She stuck a Bowie knife in a guy's chest at twenty yards. I gotta tell you, babe, it was extremely sexy."

"I know," Darcy squirmed in her seat. "Your thoughts on the subject are very distracting."

"Sorry, sweetness," Clint smirked.

""You two are making me ill," Tony kicked his feet up on the table.

"We need to get a baseline on all of this," Steve didn't look up from his notebook. "Blood samples, full work up." Steve looked up at Darcy, straight in the eye. "You have access to everything he knows?" Darcy glanced at Clint, who nodded. "Don't look at him for confirmation. If you can access everything he knows just by touching him, and he doesn't seem willing to not touch you, then you're going to need to be read into the Avengers Initiative, and start training. That means I'm your Captain."

"You are aware that I don't actually have to look at him to consult," Darcy snapped at the startled Super Soldier. "I do it out of curtesy. Everything and I do mean everything we think, we share."

"How far does it go?" Natasha asked quietly.

"She knows about my parents, the circus, how we met," Clint looked down at Darcy. "It's not invasive, we share equally, I know just as much about her." He let his shoulders relax. "Tash, my implant was fried during the first round of testing; she spent every free moment we had until the telepathy kicked in, learning sign language so she could talk to me." Clint looked her dead in the eye, daring her to say anything against Darcy.

"Okay," the other spy relaxed.

"As long as we're touching," Clint said slowly, like they were all slow. "I hear everything through her; she shares every bit of herself so I can hear."

"Jesus Christ," Tony whistled low.

"Get down to Medical," Steve told them. "We'll figure out all the implications of the bond when we're all rested."

"Yeah," Tony interjected. "Plus you guys really reek."

"Thanks, Tony," Darcy rolled her eyes and stood, her hand still clasped in Clint's. "You really know how to charm a girl."

"I'll leave that to Bird boy, luscious," Tony winked.

The medical tests were invasive and uncomfortable, but true to his word, Clint stayed right by her side the entire time.

"I don't think they left any blood for me," Darcy groused, rubbing her arm where the needle marks were fading.

"Wait till they ask you to pee in a cup," Clint sat back in his chair. She just groaned.

 **Notes:**

I love comments. Please let me know what you want next, theories on whats going on, and complaints are even good.

Love makes the world go round.


	5. Scream

**Notes:**

Chapter title inspired by Scream by Avenged Sevenfold.

This is my first attempt to write any kind of smut, in real life I write young adult fiction, and teach young adult fiction. This is totally out of my wheelhouse. Anyone who wants to lend a hand, please do.

Not What I Expected

Chapter 5: Scream

Darcy was dead on her feet by the time she got out of the shower. The fifth time she washed her hair she couldn't remember if she conditioned or just shampooed, and that told her it was time to get out; not to mention her fingers were beyond pruned, and her skin was pink from excessive scrubbing. Clint was already fast asleep, face down on his bed, her pillows transplanted for her comfort, since neither of them were interested in sleeping alone, or really being alone. Darcy slid under his heavy comforter and felt his arms snake around her middle, drawing her into him, even in sleep. She didn't even remember her head hitting the pillow. God she'd missed pillows, and blankets, and heat.

She could feel the shadows stretching out over her body before she saw them, voices muffled in the dark, laughing as she tried to struggle away from the disembodied hand stabbing at her with needles. Fire ripped through her veins and she braced for the shock, a scream tearing itself from the pit of her soul. She struggled at the hands that wrapped themselves around her arms and pulled her off the hard surface of the metal gurney. She was surrounded by pillows, a heavy comforter weighing down her legs, and strong arms held her against a broad naked chest, a chin sitting on her shoulder.

"Shh," Clint whispered in her ear. "I'm right here, you're safe." Darcy let out a long shaky breath and relaxed back into him.

"I'm alright," she panted, her hands coming up to rub along his, which were secure around her waist under her sleep shirt which was riding up to just under her breasts. The skin contact let his calming reassurance flow through their link. "Just a bad dream."  
"We're probably going to have a lot of those for a while," he told her, leaning back on the pillows that she had invaded his room with, and rubbing his hands up and down her sides under her shirt, relishing in the double sensations, how her silky skin felt under his hands and the feeling of her stomach tightening and her back relaxing as he let his hands wander along her ribs, ghosting just under the curve of her breasts.

Darcy groaned and arched into his hands. "If you do this every time I have a nightmare," she said, letting him pull her shirt over her head. "I'm going to start looking forward to them."

"Me too" he took the weight of her breasts in his hands, rubbing his calloused thumbs over her nipples, causing them both to arch up into the sensation. "God, that's weird," he pulled gently at her breasts and moaned at the tight warm feeling at the base of their spines. "In the best possible way."

Darcy just nodded and turned in his arms, and climbing into his lap, enjoying the feel of him pushing up into her. He fisted his hands into her clean hair, letting if flow through his fingers before he fitted his lips over hers, slipping his tongue past her lips. They groaned together as she rubbed herself over him. "Lots of nightmares," she pushed him back and tugged at the elastic of his boxers. "Pants off," Clint just chuckled darkly and let her help him scoot the offending material out of the way. His head fell back against the wall with a quiet thud as she gripped him firmly in one hand. He pulled at the edge of her underwear, pushing them down as far as he could reach, rolling them over on the bed so he could pull them off all the way, then discarding his own.  
"Better than the fantasy," he told her, looking down at her laid out under him. He leaned down over her, kissing down her chest, circling one nipple with his tongue before pulling it into his mouth and scrapping it with his teeth. Darcy held his head to her breast, her fingers running through his hair. "I can feel you feel me," he mumbled before pulling her breast back into his mouth, laving at the nipple with his tongue.

"Just don't stop," she arched up as his fingers snaked down along her stomach and across her clit, both groaned at the new sensation. He let his fingers explore until Darcy couldn't take it anymore. "Too much," she panted, pulling him up along her body. "I need you in me before we both finish and have to change the sheets." Clint pushed back on his arms and lined himself up, pushing forward slowly. He muscles bunched and fluttered around him, the sensations of feeling himself rubbing and stretching inside of her, moving slowly, relishing in the feedback loop of sensations. They were both panting hard when he hit her end. "Wow," Darcy flexed her fingers into his hips, holding him in place.

"I don't think this is going to last as long as my ego wants it too," Clint lay his forehead against hers before pulling out slowly and pushing back I harder, like her mind was urging him to. The sensation was nearly over whelming.

"I so don't care," she dug her short nails into his ass and urged him on. "This is insane." She pushed him into picking up the pace, savoring the feel of him slamming into her pelvis and butting up against her cervix, adjusting their position that tiny bit that forced the head of him against just the right spot causing her muscles to clamp down around him. They both came howling as stars danced along their vision. Clint let his weight fall onto her, kissing along her collarbone as they both came back to themselves. "I think I've officially been ruined for any kind of inferior non-psychic sex."

Clint grinned and wrapped his arms around her. "That was intense," he nipped at her neck. "I don't ever want to move again."

She chuckled and rubbed her hands up and down his back. "You've got a few minutes," she tilted her neck back to give him better access. "Then we need to clean up." Clint bit down at the spot on her neck where it met her shoulder and Darcy moaned. "Maybe a little longer."

The smell of coffee woke Darcy, the warm weight of Clint's arm around her waist, the full length of his body against her back. "Does your coffee maker have a timer?" The coffee had to be weird after ten weeks of sitting there, but it smelled fresh enough.  
"My coffee maker's name is Natasha," he tightened his harms around her. "She's not going anywhere." His hands wandered up to cup her breasts, pushing against her ass.

"I'm not having sex with you while your best friend is listening in the next room," Darcy slapped at his hands and turned, kissing him quickly and rolling off the bed, snagging his shirt and pulling it over her head.

"Tash won't care," Clint rolled on his back trying to entice her back into bed.

"She cares," Natasha called from the living room and Darcy turned back to him and signed the Widow's comment. He just barked out a laugh and rolled off the bed.

"You go get coffee," he kissed her gently. "Natasha wants to warn you about how much of a letch I am. Try not to let her intimidate you."

"I have full access to your mind," Darcy nipped at his beardless chin. "I'm not going anywhere."

Clint swatted at her ass as she sauntered away. "Good."

Natasha handed her a cup of coffee as she came out of the bedroom, and lead her to the couch. Darcy took the mug and sat down. "You're worried," Natasha just lifted a brow at her. "You're not just worried about Clint, how he hasn't had any kind of relationship since Bobbi left, but about me. You're worried about what I'll do when I think too hard about the fact that he tends to go home with random girls from the bar down the street and leaves before they wake up," Darcy took a drink from the mug and made an appreciative sound. "You're concerned that I'll bolt when I find out that last night was the first time in five years he's had sex without being wasted. You think that maybe this is just a reaction to our captivity and it'll fade and we'll self-destruct." She looked at the other woman who looked almost spooked.

"I thought you could just read Clint," Natasha said, wearily.

"I can, but he knows you better than anyone could ever hope to, and we turned this all over in our minds last night. I'm so far into his brain, there aren't any secrets. Can I promise we will work, no, though it seems likely, our powers seem to work only when we're touching, which makes for quite an incentive to like each other. This is probably going to be a very unhealthy relationship for a while, while we both get our heads on straight, but the bond will help, having each other so intimately will give us both something to lean on."

"Do you love him?" Natasha peered at this little girl who had situated herself into her best friends life without missing a step, trying to see how best to deal with her.

"I thought you said that love was for children," Darcy countered.

"Don't hurt him," she told Darcy, she let concern bleed onto her face.

"You know I can't promise that," Darcy said, taking a sip of the coffee, letting the rich taste of it roll over her tongue. "I can promise that I'll do my best, that I'll be open and honest with him, which is a guarantee, since all he has to do is touch me."

"He doesn't have girlfriends," Tasha told her, relaxing into the couch. "Clint's worried if he gets attached that they'll become targets."

"I know," Darcy knew about every drunken hook up, about sneaking out of apartments in the middle of the night, his boots still untied. She understood his worry. "I'm as much of a target as he is, we share every dirty little secret, and HYDRA's going to be gunning for us both, they aren't finished yet." Darcy put her mug down on the coffee table and turned to look at Clint's best friend. "I don't pretend to know everything they did to us, but I don't think it's possible for us to be apart."

"You know everything he does?" Darcy just nodded. "Then you know that people he cares about tend to leave, betray him."

"Yeah, but you haven't," she said. "I have no intention of falling into that category either." Darcy picked up her mug again and leaned back. "I'm not here to take your place, Natasha. He needs you, after Loki he hasn't trusted anyone else."

"You couldn't replace me, little girl," she kicked her feet up on the coffee table.

"No, I never could," Darcy took a deep drink from the mug of black coffee, just then realizing she doesn't like it black, but it tasted wonderful. "I do need you to like me, though."

"I don't dislike you," the assassin told her and Darcy chuckled. "I don't really know you."

"That I can change," she held her hand out to Natasha, who took it firmly. "Darcy Marie Lewis, no code name, yet."

The other woman smiled at her. "Natasha Romanoff," she squeezed Darcy's hand, testing. Darcy didn't flinch. "They call me Black Widow."

"See, I need a cool code name like that," she wrapped her hand back around her coffee mug. "You make great coffee."

"I have to," Natasha told her, smiling into her cup. "Clint would die without coffee, and he can't boil water without burning it."

"I like you for this coffee, alone," they lapsed into a companionable silence, both sipping their coffee, listening to the sounds of the shower in the other room and Clint's very off key caterwauling.

"It's a good thing he can't hear himself," Tasha smiled into the mug.

"But I can share it with him later," Darcy winked, and the Widow snickered. They were going to be good friends

Darcy was alone in the living room when Clint emerged, hair wet, in a pair of well-worn jeans and a University of Alabama t-shirt. "Tash left?" Clint snagged her mug and took a sip, dropping down on the couch, his legs over hers.

"Yep," she maneuvered the mug back to her mouth. "She made me coffee, gave me the Black Widow version of the shovel talk, and scheduled training in the gym at two."

"She's efficient," Clint kissed her cheek.

"She expects you, too," Darcy returned the kiss and pulled her mug from his fingers.

"I hate her," he grumbled.

"No you don't," she pushed him off her lap, smacked his denim clad butt and grabbed his hand. "Get your own coffee." He kissed her and wandered off into the kitchen, making way more noise then she thought possible finding a mug. Clint drank his coffee black.

 **Notes:**

Let the comments fly! No really, it feeds the writer.


	6. Radiation

**Notes:**

Chapter title inspired by Radiation by Family Force 5

Not What I Expected

Chapter 6: Radiation

Darcy lay on the mat in the gym, panting as she watched Clint and Natasha spar. Tash had spent the first two hours putting her through her paces. While Darcy's mind knew what to do and how to do it, probably due to the weeks connected with Clint, but her body, her muscle memory wasn't on the same page.

"We will train your body to do what your mind already knows, little one," Natasha looked down at her, sweating quietly on the mat. "Clint needs time too, your captivity left his muscles to get too far out of practice."

Darcy could see him slumped against the far wall, drinking from the water bottle he'd brought with them.

"Next we try your knife skills," the Russian hefted her to her feet. "Clint says you can throw, but can you fight?" The practice knife that Tasha put in her hands was a but heavier then the one she'd thrown and wasn't balanced as well, the handle heavier then the blade. The blade itself bled blue. "It'll leave a mark where you strike," she smoked her knife down on Darcy's sweaty thigh, leaving a blue imprint.

"Thanks, Tash," Darcy knew better than to try and wipe away the mark. "I know," she reached around and swipedbthe flat of her own blade across the widow's ass. "Turn about's fair play."

After an adjustment period, Tasha was taller then her brain told her she should be; things went better than sparing had. The knife felt right in her hand, her body picking up the releases and catches of the blade in a way it hadn't with the martial arts.

Natasha let Clint spar with Darcy for about all of five minutes before declaring it useless. Darcy could have told her that, anytime they came into skin contact their link ruined any strategy either could come up with.

The range was an entirely different story. She knew how to hold a gun, how to shoot one, even how to disassemble and clean one. Darcy couldn't hit the broad side of a barn. Clint was ejecting his third clip while Natasha looked at her unmarked sheet.

"We'll," the assassin yapped the target. "You hit Clint's."

"I've never shot a gun before," Darcy said, carefully unloading her spent clip and flicking the safety back on the gun.

"You've never been in a knife fight either, but you held your own," Natasha looked at the target sheet and then the gun like they held the secretes of the universe and refused to give up the goods. She called up a new target and loaded a clip into the gun, emptying it in quick succession. Holes appeared in the paper, clustered together in the center. "We'll, it's not the gun."

"Nope," Darcy sank down, head in her hands. "It's me," she mumbled to her knees. She knew exactly how to fire again, how to compensate for kickback, how to line up a target, but she couldn't hit anything.

"Get up babe," Clint hauled her to her feet and set a new target. "Let's see what we're working with.". He stood close behind her, keeping a hand on her bare waist ready to adjust her stance or grip. She aimed down the range and fired, the first bullet hit the target dead center, with each successive one widening the hole minutely. "Well, shut.". They repeated, clint stepped back and Darcy missed everything, only getting slightly closer to the target this time, then he stepped back up, touching her skin and she hit the bulls eye each time. They switched weapons with the same result. "So it's skin contact that made you a bad ads knife thrower?"

"I can read your mind and steal your abilities?". Darcy sat down on the bench at the back of the range.

"But accuracy isn't an ability," Clint told her. "I've spent a lifetime honing those skills.". Darcy side eyed him. "And you already know that. The point is, it doesn't make any sense."

"Let's talk about how none of this makes sense," she rolled her eyes. She could feel the frustration building in her like a battery charging, her frustration fed into Clint's, which fed back into her until her fists clenched. She let out a shout and banged her hands down on the couch. The lights went out.

"I'm thinking the well timed EMP wasn't an EMP at all," Natasha's voice came through the darkness.

"Nope," Darcy walked her head against the wall. "Tony's going to I'll me if I broke his tower, even if it was an accident "

The pulse took out power in the first twenty floors of Avenger Tower and the four surrounding blocks. Tony was surprisingly blase about it, until after a few pokes with his sharp pointer caused her emotions to spiral out of control and cause another miner pulse in Tony's lab. It was small and contained to the lab, and it got her sent back to medical for more testing. The only difference, Clint was still down at the range at the time.

Clint fired each gun in quick succession, the silence that surrounded him a deep contrast to the constant fluttering of Darcy's mind. For the first time onwards he was truly and completely alone, distance rendering his bind with Darcy to less than a minor tickle in the back of his mind. He hated the silence. He hadn't anticipated that. He'd spent so much time with near or complete lack of any kind of hearing, that the quiet had become a refuge at the end of the day, taking his hearing aids out and just being. Now, the absence of Darcy's light effervescent thoughts, even on their worst days at the facility, had become his home.

He didn't know how he knew, but he knew all of a sudden that his mate was in distress. Clint stopped mid motion as he was hollering his gun, the possessiveness surprised him. He turned the feeling over in his mind, his mate, cause that's what she was, the other half to his while. You couldn't have one shoe without the other, they were more complete together. What ever crazy cocktail of chemicals they'd been shot up with had made them a complete matched set.

Clint clicked his holster closed and ran for the door. He found his mate on the medical floor, strapped down to a gurney, fighting against the re-enforced cuffs keeping her hands strapped to the bed. He pulled at the cuffs as soon as he could, letting his own reassurance that she was safe wash over both of them.

"Who the hell strapped her down?" Clint's voice echoed through the medical ward, the malice ringing clear over the sounds of medical equipment.

"We didn't know what else to do," a nurse in white scrubs peeked around the corner. "She panicked and the sedative wasn't working."

Clint got the memories clear from Darcy's mind, the needle had set her off, she'd already been on edge and the stress was too much. The staff feared an EMP taking out medical equipment and they'd taken precautions. "Don't you dare touch my mate again," he stared down the nurse who was slowly backing out of the room. The lights went out.

"We really need to get a handle on that," Darcy twined get fingers with his.

"Yeah," he took a few deep breaths. "Tony's going to kill me."

"And he's already pissed at me," she leaned in and set a kiss against his down turned mouth. "What really sucks is that we're going to have to wait even longer to take a shower now."

"I don't know, sweetheart," Clint nuzzled her neck. "You look kinda good in blue ". She just pinched him.

 **Notes:**

Feed the author.


	7. Star Struck

**Notes:**

Okay, first off, sorry its been so long since I've updated this story, I had a little bit of writer's block when it came to this particular story recently. I think I've found my groove again.

Second, this chapter title was inspired by StarStruck! by 3 Oh! 3

Hope you enjoy.

Not What I Expected

Chapter 7: Star Struck

Darcy wondered into the living room of Clint's apartment, one of his old SHIELD t-shirts barely covering the tops of her thighs as she pulled her tangled hair up into a bun at the back of her neck. It took three cabinets and a chance look in the fridge to realize that Clint had no coffee. She dumped the carafe of water into the sink and turned around. Captain America stood in the living room, his back studiously to her, a deep read flush running down the back of his neck. "Clinton Francis Barton, is there anyone who doesn't have a key to your goddamned apartment?" she mumbled under her breath, not expecting any answer from her deaf archer sacked out in the bedroom.

"I rang the bell," Steve's voice was strained from where he stood in the other room, nothing like the authoritative Captain America voice he'd used on her only a few days before.

"The bell just flashes the lights, Steve-O," Darcy rounded the couch, stepping right in front of the still red Captain. "We haven't had a chance to recalibrate the living settings for the apartment with Jarvis just yet."

"Oh," Steve looked down at his feet, shuffling back and forth.

"Steven, you yelled at me just fine a few days ago," she told him, tipping herself down into his line of sight. "If you don't quit blushing and stammering around me, I'm going to flash the girls at you until you quit." Steve's eyes got wide and he looked over at the open bedroom door. "Don't even try; Clint will think it's hilarious." In the back of her mind she could feel her mate stirring from sleep, the press of his thoughts getting clearer as he swam back from the jaws of Morpheus.

"Um," the good captain blinked owlishly at her slowly backing up for the door. "Ms. Lewis."

"Darcy," she corrected, fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

"Darcy," Steve tried not to look where her shirt was riding up. "This is highly inappropriate."

"So is breaking into someone's apartment, Spangles," Darcy advanced across the floor as Steve backed up. "You didn't even bring me coffee. Natasha brought coffee when she broke in."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Lewis," he tripped over a pair of Clint's boots in the hall, barely recovering. "Darcy, I have things to discuss with you and Clint."

"Then let's hear it, Cap," she popped her hands to her hips and watched Steve blink at her. "I'm really not that scary, Steve. I know it's not cause you've never seen a naked girl before, I mean, that much time traveling with the USO, you had to see at least a few nice sets of boobs."

"I," Steve blushed deeper and ran into the front door with an emasculating squeak.

"Strike three, Capcicle," Darcy whipped the shirt off and tossed it over to the couch. Steve blinked, his eyes glued to her chest for a long three seconds before turning and running straight into the closed door. He finally got his fingers around the handle and wrenched the door open, escaping into the hallway.

Clint's hands snaked around her bare hips, pulling her back against his body. "Did you just scare Captain America away with your tits?"

"Yep," Darcy pulled his arms all the way around her, letting his laughter bubble through her mind.

"That was mean babe," he laid a kiss against the side of her neck. "What if he needed to discuss something important?"

Darcy shrugged. "Then he'll come back. Maybe next time he'll wait until we answer the door before letting himself in."

"You are such a bitch, Darce," he slipped his hands along her body, the first coming up to cup one of her full breast, slowly rubbing the callused pad of his thumb across her nipple, both groaning at the bolt of lust that rocked through them, Darcy's head fell back against his chest.

"You love it," she tilted her head to the side so he could bite along the curve of her neck, his other hand making its way between her legs, dragging his fingers along her wet slit, circling slowly around the edge of her clit. "You know," she breathed as he rocked against the small of her back, leaving it wet with pre-cum. "I came out here for coffee."

"I don't have any coffee. Sex now, coffee later," he grunted, biting into her shoulder and rubbing the pad of his thumb against her clit as he sank two fingers into her. "God, I don't think I'll ever stop loving this."

"You two might want to start locking the door," Natasha leaned against the wall to the living room. Darcy squeaked and made a bolt for the bedroom. Clint just smirked and slipped his wet fingers into his mouth, making a show of sucking them off. 'That was uncalled for,' Natasha signed. Clint sent her a one finger salute with his unoccupied hand and turned to follow his girlfriend into the bedroom.

Steve refused to look Darcy in the eye as they took their seats around the table in the Avenger's war room. Darcy sipped at the coffee that she's insisted on getting before she would even consider leaving Clint's room. Flashing Steve was one thing, having Natasha walk in on a very private moment was something else.

"Before we hear what is so important that Steve broke into our apartment," Darcy said, lacing her fingers with Clint's and trying to keep her annoyance in check. "I think we need to discuss personal space and common curtesy."

"I don't know, Darcy," Natasha said with an evil glint in her eye. "You looked pretty happy with Clint being all in your personal space."

"You, shut it," she pointed at the Widow. "No more breaking in, not even to make coffee."

"In my defense, I didn't actually break in this morning," she told the younger woman. "The door was unlocked, I just walked in."

"And whose fault was that, Captain?" Darcy looked over at Steve, who was scarlet red, looking down at his hands.

"Who you scared from the apartment with your boobs," Clint chuckled.

"I'll admit, I lost my temper at bit," she said, watching Steve try to sink further into the plush office chair. "But he broke in, and Steven, don't even try to tell me that door was unlocked, I locked it myself last night." She looked at the captain and waited for acknowledgement.

"No ma'am," Steve said to the table, trying to look as small as possible.

"And Spangled ass over there is either yelling at me or stammering and blushing like a virgin on his wedding night, plus, Clint doesn't have coffee in the apartment, which we need to fix, stat."

"So you flashed him," Clint snorted at the shocked looks.

Darcy shrugged. "Seemed like the thing to do, course the coward sent Tash to collect us, then."

"Yeah," the Widow smirked. "I will not be doing that again. I suggest everyone call Darcy before going up to the Hawk suite, I saw way more of their personal time then I ever want to see again."

"Okay," Steve peeled his hands down his face. "Now that we've completely covered why we should all respect each other's personal space," his ears turned pink. "Let's get to why I was up in Agent Barton's apartment."

"Don't even try to blush, Spangles," Darcy sipped at her coffee. "I saw you looking at the girls hard before you nearly knocked yourself out with the front door."

Steve cleared his throat and looked pained. "Can we please stop talking about your breasts ad focus on why Hydra was keeping you?" The Captain voice came out, changing the whole mood of the room. "Right," he pushed files from his tablet up onto the holoscreens around the room. "Hydra is attempting to restart Project Winter Soldier." All traces of humor disappeared from the room in an instant. "With Bucky in the wind, they're looking for new candidates." Darcy's SHIELD file flew up on the screen, side by side with Clint's "As far as we can tell, it was just bad luck that you two were together, but you were both in their sights. Normal humans, above average intelligence, no special abilities, but shown to be resilient and connected to the Avengers Initiative." Hydra's files flew up to the screens. "Hydra's been busy the last seventy years, the serum they pumped into you both is light years beyond what Bucky got, it caused some interesting affects as far as we've been able to ascertain. What is really surprising, though," Steve clicked over to their official Avenger's Initiative medical records. "You both had latent X-genes, the serum turned them on. I don't think we've seen everything that you both are capable of yet."

"So, we're mutants now?" Darcy asked, flicking through the information on her tablet. "Or super soldiers?"

"Or both," Clint chimed in, his fingers drifting over Darcy's as he shared her screen.

"At this point," Dr. Banner, who had been sitting quietly at the end of the table, spoke up, rising slowly to his feet and flicking more files up onto the screens. "My hypothesis is, all of us who survived the various incarnations of the serum had some kind of latent X-gene. We've only got the five of us in the Tower, for testing, though, and no data from failed experimentations. There just was no way to test for those genes back then."

"I think I need to sit down," Darcy dropped the tablet on the table.

"You are sitting, Ms. Lewis," Steve looked concerned.

"Fuck you, Spangles," Darcy's head hit the table with a small groan. "Stop calling me 'Ms. Lewis,' you've seen me naked."

 **Notes:**

Feed the author, keep the words flowing.


	8. Out of the Woods

**Notes:**

Chapter title inspired by Out of the Woods by Taylor Swift.

Not What I Expected

Chapter 8: Out of the Woods

Darcy watched Jane though the glass walls of her lab. The small astrophysicist flitted around the lab, half a dozen pencils stuck in her hair. Bright pink post-it notes fluttering around her with every movement. If possible, Jane looked even thinner then she had nearly three months before. Darcy checked the brown paper bag she was holding, full of small sandwiches and pastries. She hadn't seen her boss since she'd gotten back, and was feeling a little guilty about that.

Jane didn't even look up when Darcy entered the lab and set the food down on her desk. The older woman just picked up a sandwich and kept on working. Shrugging her shoulders, Darcy pulled the piled up paperwork on her desk and fired up her computer. She organized the post-it notes and papers and dove in. The familiar clack of the keys and rhythmic hum of Jane's machines nearly drove thoughts of her captivity from her mind, only the comfortable weight of Clint's mind against hers stood as a reminder of the changes she'd gone though.

A shadow passed over her desk as the paper work started to dwindle down. "Darcy?" Jane stood to the right of her desk, a perplexed look on her face.

"Hey boss lady," Darcy threw a smile at the older woman. "You got a little behind while I was away."

"Oh my god," Jane pulled Darcy out of her chair and wrapped her arms around her. "I thought I'd never see you again." Her voice was thick with unshed tears as she squeezed her friend. "They kept coming up empty. I could see how Steve was losing hope every time they came back without you." Quiet tears slipped down the friends faces as they held tightly to one another. Jane finally pulled away and wiped the tears from her face, pushing Darcy to arm's length. "You're too thin."

Darcy laughed. "I could say the same thing to you," she took in the stick thin arms and the dark hallows under her friends eyes. "Who's been taking care of you while I was gone, Janie?"

"I can take care of myself just fine," Jane set her fists on her hips and tried to look indigent.

"Really?" Darcy arched a brow at the astrophysicist, who continued to try and keep the resolve on her face. "Let me borrow a pencil." Jane looked confused before searching all over her desk. Darcy watched as one of the pencils stuck in her friend's bun worked its way free and clattered to the floor, Jane didn't seem to notice.

"Okay," she shrugged her shoulders in defeat. "I see your point."

"Hasn't Thor been looking after you?" Darcy led her friend over to the couch in the corner and sat them both down.

"When he's here," she let out a long sigh. "Between looking for you and going back and forth to Asgard, he hasn't been here very often."

"Which means you've buried yourself in work," Darcy concluded. "Well, I'm back now, so no excuses." She pulled the older woman down onto the couch. "Take a nap, I'll wake you if you're needed." She ran her fingers through her friends hair, watching her slowly drift off to sleep. Kicking off her shoes, Darcy let sleep claim her as well.

Clint fiddled with his new hearing aids, trying to get used to the feeling of them after nearly three months without them. As wonderful as it was to hear though Darcy, natural noise vibrating through his mind, he couldn't always be with her or touching her. They both had to try and get back to some semblance of normal, and following his girlfriend around like a lost puppy was not getting back to normal, no matter how amazing it felt to touch her. The feeling of her in the back of his mind was a warm blanket touching his thoughts, when they weren't touching. When his fingertips touched hers and their minds entertained, he was home; he couldn't think of any other way to describe it.

Before the serum they'd been friendly, sort of; they'd had playful banter and had punched at each other's buttons, but it hadn't been progressing to anything. Sure he'd been interesting, that much sass packed into that body, he'd have to be dead or gay not to have his interest piqued, but he was too old and too damaged. After Bobbi had walked out, Clint had given up. Relationships where hard enough to maintain in his line of work, and the sting of someone who should have understood walking away, had tipped him over the edge.

The serum had made them fit, like puzzle pieces. Her thoughts washed away insecurities like a long hot bath, and he knew his had done the same to her. She thought her hips were too wide, that her thighs were too thick. She thought her attitude was off putting, and had a million examples of people telling her just that, though she also had no intention of changing the way she was to please anyone. And her stomach was too soft. He'd showed her how wrong she was.

Clint stood just inside the door of Dr. Foster's lab, looking down at his sleeping mate, entertained with her tiny best friend. She looked so peaceful, but he itched to touch her, eight hours without the touch of her skin under his, her slim fingers lacing through his hard callused ones, was too much. He rubbed his hand along her arm and a lazy smile bloomed across her lips. Darcy's eyes fluttered open, and a sleepy starch arched her back, and an answering smile pulled across his face. "Hey sleepy girl," Clint leaned over the still sleeping Jane to drop a kiss against Darcy's lips.

"Hey, babe," she played her lips along his, running her fingers through his spikey hair. "Got yourself some new ears."

"They itch," he ran his fingers down the side of his head in front of his ears, pushing at the hearing aids. Darcy batted his fingers away. "You sound funny."

"Yeah, well, you look funny," she winked. "Wanna help me get my neglected scientist up to her room?"

"Sure thing, babe," Clint lifted Jane's slight weight into his arms, the slender girl didn't even stir. "How long's she been in the lab?" He didn't even bother trying to keep quiet.

"No clue," Darcy shrugged her shoulders. "She just kept piling notes on my desk the whole time we were gone." A shudder passed through her. "Also, I think I owe Steve an apology."

"For flashing him or yelling at him?" he waited while she pushed the button on the elevator. "Because, personally, I think he deserved both."

"True," she pushed the button for Jane's floor, the floor also held her apartment, not that she'd been in it for anything but the necessities since they'd gotten back. "I still shouldn't have done it."

"Up to you, babe," Clint adjusted his hold on Jane as they exited the elevator. "We need to talk about our living situation." He looked down the hall towards Darcy's apartment.

Darcy froze, they hadn't been touching the entire time Clint had ahold of Jane, and she didn't know wat he was thinking. At her hesitation, he let his bare arm rub against her hand. "You're not sick of me yet?" she teased, trying to cover up her moment of doubt.

"Never gonna happen," he shouldered through Jane's door and into the bedroom, depositing the scientist on the bed before joining Darcy again in the living room. "But we do need to figure out what we're going to do." He laced his fingers though hers, his other hand came up to cup her cheek, leaning in for a quick kiss. They made the short walk down the hall to her apartment and Darcy unlocked the door.

Her apartment was still filled with boxes, only a few knick knacks and books put up on the shelves, and clothes in the closet. Her favorite stuffed dog was on the bed between the pillows that she hadn't already migrated to Clint's place. "At least it won't be hard to pack up," she smiled. "I'd forgotten how little I'd moved in."

"You sure you want to move in with an old crotchety bachelor?" he wrapped his hands around her waist and took comfort in the way she leaned back into him automatically.

"You're not so crotchety," she ran her hands along his arms and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"You're not going to protest the old part?"

"Dude," Darcy chuckled. "You're twelve years older than I am."

"I'm a dirty old men," he squeezed her gently.

"That you are," she told him, holding his arms around her middle. "You're the dirty old man who's going to help me move my stuff down to your place."

"Our place."

"Softy," Clint rewarded her with a nip on the neck and a swat on the ass, before he picked up the closest box and walked out.

 **Notes:**

Please feed my muse, she's been a bit finicky lately.


	9. Love Like Water

**Notes:**

Chapter Title inspired by Love Like Water by AFI  
Enjoy.

Not What I Expected

Chapter 9: Love Like Water

Darcy stood in her empty apartment, looking around at the Stark provided furniture and the spotless walls, where she hadn't even had a chance to hang her pictures. Alone in what had been her bedroom, she let doubt wash over her. It was too fast, right? Clint had gone from tentative acquaintance to cellmate to friend. Now she'd moved her things to his apartment.

Darcy'd never lived with a man before, other than Eric, and he was like a father or maybe an eccentric uncle, but she'd never shared a bed with someone, never had an 'Our Apartment' with a boyfriend. She reached out and touched the part of her mind where Clint lived, pushing gently at the edges of where his thoughts touched hers. If anything the contact was getting more solid, she could sense more when they weren't actively touching. The connection that once felt like a misty amorphous something to a definite feeling that said Clint Barton live here.

After a final look thought the apartment to make sure she hadn't missed anything, Darcy tucked her Hello Kitty measuring cups into her messenger bag, dropping the keys on the kitchen counter and walked out. She knew the small iota of doubt was all her own, Clint was certain down to his toes, more certain about their partnership then he'd been watching Bobbi walk down the aisle; sure of her in the same way he was when he chose to go against orders and bring Natasha in, instead of putting a bullet in her head at a hundred yards. Darcy owed it to Clint to leave her doubt locked securely behind the door of her old apartment.

Darcy turned off the lights and let the door click shut behind her. She took a deep breath and le the tension that had been building along her shoulders relax. It was done.

She took the elevator up two floors and stood in front of the door at the end of the hall, stealing herself before she knocked. Steve answered, a wary look on his face, but he let her in, regardless.

"I thought I should come and apologies," Darcy said, as she stood awkwardly in his living room, hands clasped in front of her. "I let my temper get the best of me, and I shouldn't have."

"I appreciate the apology, Ms. Lewis," Steve wouldn't look up to meet her eyes, instead choosing to carefully examine her shoes. "Darcy," he corrected even without seeing her raised eyebrow. "I confess, I've been putting off apologizing to you as well, I have no excuse for the way I treated you when you and Hawkeye first got back. All I can say is that looking for you both took a lot out of the team, and I let it get the best of me."

"No worries, Cap," she smiled at him. "I say we hug it out and call it good."

"I'm not much of a hugger," the tips of Steve's ears went pink when he felt Darcy step into his personal space.

"You'll learn," Darcy carefully reached up and wound her arms around Steve's neck and waited until his arms circled her waist, letting out a breath. "See, you're doing great already." He squeezed a little and sighed.

"Thank you," he stepped back, looking down at the small girl with her hands still on his shoulders, grinning up at him. "I think I needed that."

"Well, I give great hugs," she winked and watched a smile bloom on his face. "You just come find me anytime you need a little friendly touch."

"Can I have another hug?"

"Sure thing, big guy," Darcy stepped back into him, feeling him fold around her, his cheek resting against the top of her head.

Darcy was half convinced that Natasha got off on beating the shit out of her. She watched the older woman standing over her, a triumphant gleam in her eyes, as Darcy let her head fall back on to the mats, determined to make a sweaty impression of herself on the floor. The look on the Black Widow's face, though, said she wasn't through torturing Darcy quite yet.

"Up we go, Mishka," Natasha held out her hand to Darcy, who looked at it warily for a moment, before hefting her arm up and clasping the other woman's wrist, pulling herself to her feet as the Widow pulled at her arm.

"Did you just call me Mouse?" Darcy cocked an eyebrow and fell back into a fighting stance.

"That I did, Mishka," she winked and started to circle the smaller woman, slowly, taking in the small shifts in posture that Darcy made as her opponent moved around her. "How are you feeling today? I know Clint started to feel strained after an hour or two apart from you, He's done right bitchy by lunch time."

"My shoulders feel tight," Darcy let herself feel her entire body. Her muscles were tense and there was a pull at the back of her mind, but it wasn't unbearable. "I'm feeling a bit strained, but I can handle it."

"Steve wants us to test how well you two do apart and for how long," she struck out with a closed fist, satisfied at the way Darcy neatly blocked the punch, then throwing out one of her own, that Natasha carefully sidestepped.

"I know," Darcy watched as Natasha shifted her weight to her front foot, anticipating her next move. "Steve and I talked this morning."

"Good," the Widow stepped back and sank into a closing stance, Darcy followed, and they bowed and stepped off the mats. "Water, run, then weights, Mishka." Darcy grunted and up ended her water bottle. "He's been worried about how to approach you."

"Went over this morning," she capped the bottle and set the treadmill to an easy run to warm up. "We apologized, hugged it out and talked." She stepped onto the outer edge of the machine before starting her run. "He's worried about the effects of the link; he's noticed how strained Clint gets, too."

"We need to check the affects before you go out into the field, if you go into the field," she set her own treadmill and took up an easy pace. "Step it up, Mishka."

"Clint doesn't want me in the field," Darcy turned up her machine. "He hasn't said anything, though. He knows I'll go if he does."

"If you want to, you are welcome," Tasha told her. "It'll be good having someone literally at Clint's stupid back."

"I'm not ready yet," Darcy told her.

"No," Natasha cranked her treadmill up to a brisk run. "But you will be. Now if you can talk, you're not pushing yourself hard enough." Darcy just groaned and sped up.

Clint pulled her into his arms the second she walked through the door, kicking it shut as he locked his lips over hers, steering her towards the bedroom. "Did you miss me, baby?" she pulled away from his lips and pulled his t-shirt over his head, letting it drop on the floor as he continued to back her across the living room.

"I get a headache after about four hours," he lifted her shirt over her head and tossed it over the couch. "I just need to touch you." He ran his hands up her hips to cut her breasts though her bra. "We gotta figure this out, babe."

"Worry about weird psychic link later," Darcy reached down, pulling his belt though the loops of his cargo pants. "Pants off now."

Clint pushed her through the door to their room boxes full of her belongings piled high around the room. He backed her up to the bed, pushing her down onto the soft mattress as soon as her knees hit the bed. He dropped to his knees making quick work of her shoes as she unbuttoned her jeans and let him pull them down, lifting her hips to help.

Darcy pulled him to his feet, kicking his pants down his hips. Clint went to kneel back between her legs, but Darcy topped him. "Don't you dare think of going down on me right now, I spent four hours in the gym with Nat and I haven't had a decent shower yet."

"Too late," he let her pull him up on the bed over her, running his fingers though her curls and circling her clit slowly. "Later?"

"After a nice hot shower, you can spend all the time you want down there," Darcy let out a long sigh as he pushed two fingers into her, watching his jaw go slack, a deep growl rumbling from his chest. "Right not, I want you to fuck me."

"That I can do," he pushed slowly into her, feeling her adjust to him and pulling back, slamming their hips together the way he knew she was craving. The pain in the back of his head melted away as their minds intermingled.

 **Notes:**

Thoughts, suggestions, predictions? And of course, don't forget to feed the author, maybe the plot bunny, too.


	10. Lifesize

**Notes:**

Okay, so it's been a little longer then I would like for this update, but here it is! This story's getting ready to wrap up, so, at the end of this chapter, there will be a little box for comments. let me know what you'd like to see before this is all over. Anything you want me to wrap up, or even thoughts about what my next story should be, since I'll be making room in my plot bunny line up. I'm thinking a Clint/Darcy/Natasha story, not sure. So leave me some lovely comments, let me know what you all are looking for.

Not What I Expected

Chapter 10: Lifesize

Darcy watched as the sun lazily glinted against the steel and glass windows of the city, the early morning light falling hazily through the heavily tinted windows of Stark Tower, dancing around their bedroom. She ran her fingers slowly through her sleeping partner's hair, his face pillowed into her stomach, arms tight around her bare hips. Clint's dreams flitted through her mind, but she could his sleepy thoughts easy to push aside as she let her own mind wander.

The team had been testing them for the past week, how far apart could they go without strain; it was time, not distance, it turned out. Clint showed signs first, getting stressed and irritable after only a couple of hours; finally blooming into a migraine that got steadily worse the longer he was apart from her. At the twelve hour mark, the pain would get to be too much, and he'd lose consciousness. At which time she went ape shit at the complete loss of contact with her partner. The pulse she put out took out power in all of Midtown for five hours; luckily it was past midnight when it happened.

As far as they'd been able to determine, the link was Clint's, and it only worked with Darcy. She was his touch stone, and not even other psychics could break into their circuit, they'd tried. Whether it was from their forced isolation during their time with Hydra, or not their abilities only transferred to each other. Clint could initiate a pulse if he was touching her, and she could hit a moving target at a hundred meters blind folded, if she was touching him.

Darcy could feel Clint waking before his breathing even started to change. "Feels good," he mumbled sleepily, pushing his head into her fingers like a great big cat. "What'cha thinking so hard about so early?" Like he didn't know. He ran one hand along her side, just enjoying the slide of her skin against his fingertips.

"We can never be apart," Darcy sighed, pulling the spikey ends of his hair, twisting pieces into small peaks.

"Is that a problem?" Clint asked, pushing himself up and away from his mate. Her naked skin gleaming in the early morning light.

Darcy laced her fingers together over her stomach and looked at her boyfriend. Was it a problem? Yes and no. Yes, because it was something that their enemies could use against them. Clint was useless after more than a few hours apart, and once he was incapacitated, Darcy went a little crazy. After she'd let out her pulse, blacking out the city, electricity had continued to flicker between her fingers, shocking anyone who came close until they brought Clint to her. What would happen if they were separated for days or weeks? Would he slip into a coma, would he die without her touch? What would happen to Darcy if he died? Best hypothesis, she would probably lose her mind.

On the other hand, she loved her mate. Darcy never wanted to be away from him. The sound of his voice, his calloused fingers on her skin; she felt whole. Darcy looked up into his questioning eyes and reached out, pulling him back to her. Her lips slanting against his, gently running her tongue along the seam of his mouth. Clint sighed into the kiss, the tension melting from his body as he molded it against hers, his hips sliding between her open thighs.

"Not a problem," she smiled against his lips, feeling him growing hard against her thigh. "Just a complication." We can deal with a complication," Clint mumbled, sliding down her body, capturing a nipple between his lips, sucking lightly and teasing the tip with his tongue.

"Absolutely," Darcy let her head fall back against the wall; because of course Hawkeye didn't have a proper bed with a headboard, and put her hands in his hair, holding his mouth against her breast. "Just don't stop."

He nodded and propped himself up on one hand, sliding the other down between her parted legs, teasing a finger longer her clit, loving the way she pushed into his hand while holding tightly to his hair. "Never gonna happen, sweetheart." He pushed reluctantly at her hands so he could continue his journey down, kissing down her stomach and down to her bare sex. Clint laid kisses against each of her thighs before licking along her wet slit, using his already busy fingers to open her lips to his questing tongue. He pushed two fingers inside her warm passage, licking and sucking at her clit as his fingers pistoned inside her.

"Get up here before I come," she pulled at his hair, the beginnings of her orgasm boiling along her limbs. Clint shook his head, grazing his front teeth against her clit, making her hips buck into his face. "Your gonna make a mess, and I don't want to change the sheets." She pulled again at his hair and reluctantly he pulled his fingers from her dripping passage.

"I'll do laundry," he told her, kissing her belly and rolling his eyes up to meet hers.

"No you won't, I don't need pink t-shirts and neither do you," Darcy pulled him up to her lips, her fingers lacing behind his neck.

"Probably for the best, Nat teases me," Clint let her guide him down to her lips, letting her taste her own juices on his lips as he slid his cock into her. The feeling of completeness clicked inside both of them as they shared a sigh. "Yep, this is better."

"I'm always right," Darcy sassed, gasping as he ground his pelvis into her clit.

"About this," he admitted, kissing along her jaw, feeling the delicious tightening along their bodies before their orgasms washed over them and through their link. He let his weight fall onto his mate's pliant and sated body. "I love you, Darcy."

"I love you, too," she ran her hands down his back, feeling each scar as her finger tips slid down his damp skin, a road map of a life lived hard. The serum had smoothed out the wrinkles on his face, but the old scars stayed.

The alarm clock on the bedside table, and addition that Darcy'd insisted on, sounded, pulling them both from their quiet moment. "Aww, no," Clint glared at the alarm. "I hate you."

"Up we go," Darcy pushed at his shoulders, rolling his body off of hers. "Don't hate on the clock, Hawk boy. It's the only way Nat doesn't come find us."

"Mean," he pulled himself off the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. "We got time for a shower, babe?"

"Not together," she told him, pushing him towards the glassed in shower and reaching for her tooth brush.

"If you think I can perform again," Clint turned on the shower, shrieking a little when the cold spray his him full in the face. "You clearly under estimate my refractory period."

"You said period," Darcy chuckled around her tooth brush.

"You're a child," he adjusted the temperature.

"You just fucked this child, old man," she spit into the sink and grinned at him, his face hitting his palm before doing a quick wash of his body.

"Shut up," Clint grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. "Your turn."

Natasha watched as the Hawks wondered into the gym, fingers locked together and serious expressions on their faces. They dropped hands as they settled onto the mats and started their stretching. They'd begun to move alike, not the same, but in the same fashion, in a synchronicity that Natasha never thought she'd see Clint manage with anyone but herself. They had a rhythm, not just on the mat, but in every aspect of their lives. She'd noticed that Darcy took her coffee black more and more often, her ubiquitous creamers sitting lonely in the refrigerator. Clint's breakfasts had lost their protein shakes and turned to sugary cereals and pop tarts. Darcy's fingers would twitch when she was reading. Like she itched to have an arrow between them, or one of Clint's stupid drum sticks. Clint had started popping his gum. It was almost ridiculous how in tune they were to each other, but neither seemed to notice their gradual changes.

In the gym they communicated silently, even when not touching, through quick glances and shared eyebrow raises. Natasha couldn't wait to see them in the field together.

Darcy clapped her hands and popped off the floor, catching the Widow's eyes. "Ready to beat the tar out of me, bol'shaya sestra?"

"Only if you are, Mishka," Natasha kicked off her shoes and met the younger woman in the center of the mat, bringing her hands together and bowing at Darcy, who retured the gesture before dropping into a defensive crouch.

"Bring it, Nat."

 **Notes:**

Don't forget to leave a comment, suggestion, etc. I'm also looking for some nice fuzzy plot bunnies for a Clint/Darcy/Natasha story.


	11. Epilogue

Notes: I just want to say, as I bring this story to an end, I've really appreciated all the love and support that you all have given me. I hope that you all have enjoyed this journey with me as much as I have.

Not What I Expected

Chapter 11: Epilogue

Darcy looked down over the clearing from her nest at the top of a high cliff, Clint's back to her, his bow poised as he waited for his target.

"Eyes up Hawks," Natasha's voice came over the comms. "Your mouse has left the burrow."

"Acknowledged," Darcy said, carefully standing, keeping her back leg touching her mate in their new specially made uniforms, designed for them to be able to keep just enough skin contact for their powers to cross over. She raised her rifle, peering thought the scope. "I thought only bunny's lived in burrows."

"Whatever," the Widow grumbled.

A black jeep rolled into view, Darcy could hear the rush of air as Clint loosed an arrow, painting the target with a tracker for Tony's inferred rockets. "Target acquired, alright Man of Iron, let's blow these Hydra bitches off the planet."

"Rodger Wilco, Lady Hawk," Tony said, the whine of his repulsers coming over the comm as he moved into position.

"Stop calling me that," Darcy grumbled while Clint chuckled. "What, it's a dumb movie, and a stupid call sign."

"We'll talk about it when we get home, dear," Clint said, keeping an eye on the slowly moving SUV. "Spangles, you got their base rigged."

"That's affirmative, Hawkass," Steve's voice was loud and clear, full of Captain America authority, while ribbing his friend. "For the record, Spangles is the Lady Hawk's nickname, you have not been authorized."

"Yeah, yeah, don't call me Hawkass then."

"Children," Natasha barked, bringing them all back to the present. "I say we discuss the miss use of call signs at the next debrief, for now, can we blow some shit up so we can go home?"

"Give it a ten count on my mark," short puffs of breath coming from the captain let them all know he was still running clear of the base. Darcy sighted the driver and took a long slow breath. "Mark."

Darcy and Clint watched as the small base in the ass end of Russia, the same one they'd been interned in for ten long weeks of torture, crumbled under the force of the explosions. The jeep abruptly stopped, two men jumping out, guns raised. The Hawks sighted a target each, the archer knocking an arrow silently. "You're up, Ironman," Darcy breathed into the comm. The small rockets wailed through the air, hitting the jeep one at a time, before it burst into a ball of flame. The two men jumped away from the fiery vehicle. The driver dropped first, a bullet through his forehead, then the passenger stumbled to the ground with an arrow through his chest. A second later the arrow detonated, painting the snow a bright red.

"Alright kids," Clint stowed his bow over his shoulder and held his hand out to his mate, linking their fingers together. "I think that about does it." Darcy slung her rifle over her shoulder as they made their way to the Quinjet. "Wheels up in ten."

"Might wanna hustle, Spangles," Darcy chuckled as Clint started his pre-flight checklist. "You know what a stickler out Hawk is about his time table."

"He just wants to get you home," Tony said over the comm, clearly ready to say something else when Steve interrupted.

"If you leave me again," the captain huffed. "I'm going to be super pissed."

"Language, Spangles," Toney sang, his red and gold form coming up over the horizon.

"You don't wanna haul my ass home again, either," Steve grumbled. "And shut up, Tony, it was one time, get over it. And stop calling me Spangles."

"Not gonna happen, Spangles," Darcy laughed, plopping herself down in the co-pilot's chair, hooking her bare calf around her mates, their minds settling as they interlocked. "You're stuck with it."

"I hate you," he mumbled, the clang of his boots hitting the ramp echoing through the jet.

"Not possible, Spangles," she grinned over her shoulder at her friend. "I'm delightful, even Widow loves me."

"Da, ya lyublyu tyebya, Yastreb," Natasha appeared over Darcy's shoulder silently, dropping a kiss on the other woman's cheek. "You too, dork," she ruffled Clint's hair, dodging his hands as he brushed her away.

"Kisses to you too, Nat," Clint blew a kiss and winked at his old partner. "We locked and loaded?"

"All accounted for," Tony told them, his repulsers whining as he took off. "No heat signatures from the compound."

"That takes care of phase one," Darcy sighed, locking herself into her five point harness. Darcy hated flying. Clint may not get airsick, and touching him helped, but Darcy would probably never make it through an entire flight without having at least a little bit of queasiness.

"Phase two's already begun," Tony's voice rose over the roar of the engines. "Jarvis, how are we looking?"

"I am running facial recognition, worldwide, sir," the AI informed them. "So far I haven't found anything conclusive. I have taken the liberty of dispatching the Falcon to San Diego on a promising lead, however."

"Keep looking, J," Darcy leaned back in her chair, looking at where Steve was strapped in. "We'll bring him home, Stevie."

"It's what we do, doll," he gave her a wide grin. "Let's take this bird home."

Notes: To be continued? Let me know, cause I'm all poised to let Darcy and the gang run down our favorite brain washed assassin.


End file.
